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Is just bored. No goals or motivation. I get one conversation a day, coffee, two naps. |
| The moment the gently placed needle landed to skate grooves around the record, an analog memory electrified stereophonic. She appeared again, 17, in his bedroom, a holographic memory he wished gone to replace time past that left a growing distance between them. 💔 T̵̢̝̗̰̪̠̹͗̾̾h̵̥͉̲̠̍̽͛̌͂̆̚ě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆ Ab̴̦̄̈͐̾̑̚͝s̸͉̻̃͘ě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆n̴̝͚͎͔̘̰̅ͅcě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆ o̷͍̥̣̺͋f̶̭̱̘͇͊͋̾̋̄͆ Wa̴͙͓̓̕vě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆l̵̩̘̯̪͋͒͒̉͒̄ě̸̗͓̱̺̮̣̽͆n̴̝͚͎͔̘̅ͅg̸̫͙̻̭͐͝ț̴̵̢̝̗̰̪̠̹̈́͌͆̑͋͂̅͗̾̾h̵̥͉̲̠̍̽͛̌͂̆̚ From, “Heart Chasing The Moon” an as yet poem, story or novel attempting to skirt the cliche, reenvision a love lost, rekindle a warm glowing remembrance. There are no do-overs as there are no time machines; and yet, we invent fantasy to sate delusion, immerse in illusion and sentimentally romanticize a time when dreams were conceivable goals, rather than darkening reality — stars you will never touch.  |
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